Mock World Conference
by LavenderTown
Summary: AU: Alfred F. Jones is pumped to be representing the US in the first Global Youth international mock world conference, but something suspicious is underfoot, and if that wasn't enough, a certain British delegate is becoming awfully distracting...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Some minor edits have been made to the first three chapters of this story, and the fourth chapter is new, fresh off the presses! Apologies for my long hiatus, writer's block is a beast (x_x). To old readers: thank you all for your patience and the lovely reviews so far, and to new readers: enjoy!** **:D**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia! (sadsadsad)**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Four Big Macs and a large fry to go?" the woman at the airport McDonalds called out.

"That's me! Thanks!" said a tall, blond-haired, blued-eyed young man as he came bounding up to receive the steaming bag of fast food. "…Or should I say _mur-cee_?" he added, winking, French accent woefully appalling.

The woman was unimpressed. "Sir, you _do_ know that people in Quebec speak English as well?"

The young man shrugged and flashed a bright, enthusiastic smile. "Yeah, I know, but I have to practice demonstrating my knowledge of foreign cultures. I'm representing the US in the Global Youth Mock World Conference! It's totally crazy! I mean-" The young man pulled out one of the burgers from the bag and continued to babble as he unwrapped it and took a bite. "- ou' of lich thousandsh of college shtudentsh in America tha' applied, I'm th' on'y one tha' go' picked!" he said through mouthfuls of half-chewed burger. "An' you know wha th' besht par' ish?" he swallowed and took a huge sip of the soda he had in his hand.

"At the end of the conference I get to meet _the actual president of the United States_! All of the student delegates going will get to meet their country's leaders! It's like this whole thing meant to inspire the movers and shakers of tomorrow or whatever! But seriously, I am going to MEET the PRESIDENT!" He took another enormous bite, a bit of ketchup dribbling onto his chin.

"Ca' you eveh b'lieve ih?" he asked, eyes gleaming, cheeks puffed out with the mouthful of fast food.

The woman at the counter couldn't believe a lot of things that were happening at the moment, but before she could verbalize her disbelief the young man glanced at the clock on the wall behind her and let out a made-for-Hollywood gasp.

"Oh SWEET HOLY MOSES, I'm gonna miss the bus!" and with that he took off, furiously stuffing the rest of the half-eaten burger in his mouth as he ran.

The woman watched him race through the crowded lobby, flinging his duffle bag around, yelling back garbled _jay sueez day-sol-aye_'s to the various unfortunates who happened to be in his line of fire.

_The representative for America, eh?_ she thought to herself.

_That much I _can_ believe_

* * *

Alfred made it to the bus waiting to bring the student delegates to the designated hotel with seconds to spare. _Man, why did that McDonalds lady have to be so chatty? I mean, this is a once in lifetime opportunity here! _

He shrugged it off as he handed his duffle to the attendant and showed the driver the special ID that had come with his mock conference packet. The driver nodded, and allowed Alfred onto the crowded bus.

Surveying the collection of strange new faces all staring at him in interest, Alfred felt an eager smile break across his face.

"Alright, nobody panic!" he couldn't help but announce. "The US of A has _arriiiived_!" And, oblivious to the whispers and raised eyebrows that followed him, Alfred made his way confidently toward the only empty seat he could see.

* * *

_Oh, bollocks._

Arthur shot a vehement glance at the empty seat beside him, the one which that loud-mouthed American oaf at the front of the bus was heading straight for, and groaned. The long flight from London had put him in a sour mood, and all he wanted now was a nice, quiet bus ride, and a chance to do some more work. Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to put off the forced socializing that went along with this whole thing for too much longer, but damn it all to hell if he was going to squander away a prestigious opportunity like this in favor of such trifling matters as making friends. He had worked bloody hard to get here, damn it, and any extra time he was afforded should thus be spent in preparation for the conference.

He had a feeling that having mister self-proclaimed "US of A" as bus partner would make this a rather difficult task to carry out.

"Hey! Mind if I sit here?" The idiot-in-question asked brightly, and Arthur found himself staring up into a pair of bespectacled, cornflower blue eyes. The sudden, baffling wave of heat that he felt rise to his cheeks only served to increase his irritation.

"Does it really matter, seeing as there's nowhere else for you to bloody sit?" Arthur asked, not bothering to mask the venom in his voice. The git appeared to take it in stride, however. He flashed Arthur another ridiculous, eye-blinding smile.

"Haha, I guess not! Thanks!" he said, and plopped down into the seat as the bus started on its way, opening the brown McDonald's bag he was carrying and fishing out not one but_ three_ hamburgers.

"Sho, Englan' huh?" the yank asked as he unwrapped one of the burgers and stuffed a sizable portion into his mouth.

Arthur was too busy looking on in sheer disgust to pay attention to the question. "I beg your pardon?" he asked icily. The git swallowed his enormous mouthful and repeated the question.

"You're the delegate from England, right? I can tell by your fancy accent." Arthur rolled his eyes and let out an indignant huff.

"Firstly," he began to correct. "There's nothing_ fancy_ about my accent. _You're_ the one with the accent-"

"Could've fooled me!" the American twit interjected playfully, swallowing another bite of burger and immediately preceding to shove a handful of fries in its place.

"And_ secondly_," Arthur continued, speaking through his teeth. "I'm actually representing the entire United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

The git shrugged. "Shame thingh'" he said over a mouthful of fast food.

Arthur felt his blood beginning to boil. "It is most certainly not the same thing, and will you stop talking with your mouth full? It is bloody revolting!" He snapped hotly.

For a moment the American stared with a rather childish look of shock at Arthur's outburst, but then he swallowed his mouthful and let out an irritatingly loud laugh. "Woah! Chill, dude! Are all English people this grumpy? Because _man_, I do not want to go to England if that's the case…"

Arthur would not even dignify that question with an answer. He turned toward the window, resolving to ignore the American altogether. But the git would not be gotten rid of so easily.

"So, do you have, like, a real name, or should I just call you the guy from the United Kingdom of North Britain or whatever?" he asked as he took off the ridiculous bomber jacket he was wearing and leaned back into the seat.

Arthur thought hard about correcting the git for a second time, but decided to save his breath, and stayed firmly turned toward the window.

"Yo, didja hear me or what?" the American pressed on. "Jeez, and here I thought you Brits were all big on manners and stuff…" At this, Arthur felt his temper snap yet again.

"Look it up your bloody self, tosser!" he spat, wheeling about to look the yank in the eye. "It's in the program, as you'd know if you had even bothered to read it!" he gestured to his own program, which sat on his lap, neatly organized and color-coded.

"Hm, well, better now than never, right?" the git exclaimed, and plucked the program from Arthur's lap, much to the Briton's incoherent fury. "Let's see…uhhhhhmm….ahah! Arthur Kirkland! _Arthur?_ That's such an old person name! But then, you are kind of acting like a grumpy old man right now, so-"

"Can it, prat!" Arthur shouted, snatching back the program. "I don't care in the slightest about what a yank like you thinks of my name!" That idiot American was not backing down though, his blue eyes gleamed with a devious glint.

"Okay then, mister I-read-the-program-and-therefore-know-everything-" he began, curling his leg up onto the seat and shifting so that his back was braced against the aisle armrest. "-what's my name?" He lowered his head a bit and looked over his glasses, his wheat-blond hair falling into his eyes.

_Was this a challenge?_ Yes, it was; Arthur could tell by that look the git was giving him (a look which had incomprehensibly made him blush all over again). Well, Arthur Kirkland was not one to back away from a challenge, however idiotic it may be. He searched his mind for the answer: the name that went along with that annoying (yet strangely captivating) yank face...

"…Alfred Jones, if I'm not mistaken" He let the smallest hint of a smile cross his lips, because he_ knew_ he was not.

This time, for some unknown reason, the git (or Alfred rather), blushed, but he recovered quickly, raising his eyebrows and flashing that patented grin of his.

"Actually, it's Alfred F. Jones, but I'll let that slide this time, Artie" he said, winking.

"Do NOT call me that!" Arthur growled back.

"Whatever, Artie."

"AARGH!" Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, completely beyond words. Something told him that the next few days were going to be far more stressful than he really cared to think about.

* * *

**A/N: Soooo expect this story to be a little crazy, hopefully in an entertaining way. Lots more characters to come, but for now here's a few tidbits of explanation:**

**- the mock conference is taking place in Canada because Canada is AWESOME! (and also because that's the only country I've been to outside the US)**

**- _"jay sueez day-sol-aye" _= _je suis desole_ = "I'm sorry". (Alfred's french accent is failx100)**

**UP NEXT: more bus time, and a few new faces!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Alfred was trying hard to think of an explanation for just how exactly his new acquaintance could have gotten that stick shoved so far up his British ass. Sure, he'd heard that whole thing about Europeans hating Americans or whatever, but come on now! He wasn't even being _that_ obnoxious! Like, he could be _way _worse if he wanted. Really.

"Hey! Artie!" he prodded again, trying to steal back his bus partner's attention (which seemed to now be fully focused on staring sulkily out the window) "Whaddya think the hotel'l be like, huh? I bet-"

"Look. _Alfred_-" the Brit interrupted tersely, snapping toward him. Alfred couldn't help but notice (for the second or third time now) just how green those eyes were, even when they were all narrowed and glarey like that.

"-It's been very nice talking to you," he continued, breathing all weird like he was under some kind of intense stress. "But I have quite a lot of work I'd like to get started on, and would I very much appreciate it if you'd shut that infernal gob of yours and _leave me the hell alone_."

_What is the DEAL with this guy?_ Alfred wondered. _Maybe he's just pissed about having to live in a place where it rains all the time! _Yeah, that had to be it… Truthfully, Alfred was kind of getting a kick out of the other boy's excessive animosity. Those ginormous eyebrows of his, when furrowed like that, looked almost…cute.

_But not that cute!_ Alfred reminded himself. Besides, the guy was being an uber dick, and all because of a little lousy weather!

"Suit yourself, Artie" Alfred said, stretching out in his chair and feigning indifference. No way was he letting some lame, stuffy British dude ruin his good vibes, no matter how nice-sounding that accent was…

* * *

_Finally! A moment's peace!_ Arthur thought triumphantly. He didn't quite understand how the Yank git sitting beside him had managed to get under his skin so quickly, but he had. The complete disregard for any sort of decency coupled with that cocksure grin was enough to leave Arthur right seething mad. How someone so incredibly thick had gotten selected to represent one of the world's strongest superpowers in the first place was completely beyond his comprehension. No wonder America had the stigma that it did if _he_ was best they could manage to turn out!

Alright, perhaps he was being a tad harsh. (It wasn't as if the buffoon was _trying_ to be so bloody insufferable. It appeared to simply be his nature, sorry as the case may be.) In any respect, Arthur absolutely refused to be drawn in by that easy confidence the git seemed to so effortlessly exude. He did happen to have standards, after all.

But, not a moment later, and just as Arthur had begun settle comfortably into his work, the git shot inexplicably up from his chair, launching his fast food meal right into Arthur's lap.

"Why! You shiteating_, arsefaced-!"_

"-Hey WOAH!" the git gasped, cutting off Arthur's rampant string of insults. "Is that the new DS Ultra?" He leaned forward over the seat in front of him to inspect further, completely terrifying its poor occupant in the process.

"AHH! …Oh! I am very sorry! You, ah, frightened me." the small brunette responded, catching his breath. He looked at the portable video game console in his hand. "Yes, this is the Ultra. It was released in Japan last month-"

"Wow! That is SO SWEET!" the git shouted. "We don't have it in the US yet! Oh _man_, is that Battle Bros II: _Dropkick of Doom_? Can I seeeee?" Christ, that high-pitched whine was going straight through Arthur's head!

"Sick!" the idiot exclaimed as the brunette handed over the device with a small smile.

_I'll show you sick_, Arthur thought furiously as he attempted to clean the ketchupy mess off his pants. _I'll throttle you so hard you'll be sick for a bloody fortnight_! He thought of his book of curses back home, and (even though he knew magic wasn't real. Of course he knew that!) began muttering ominous incantations under his breath.

The git (very predictably) did not appear to notice; he was too completely enamored with the mindless electronic in his hands. After a round of frantic keypad mashing, he looked up and flashed the brunette boy one of those blasted smiles.

"Hey, I'm Alfred, by the way!"

"…Kiku," the brunette returned shyly, and blushed with embarrassment (even though nothing embarrassing had really happened to him.) For some absurd reason, Arthur felt in his stomach the tiniest pang of jealousy.

"Awesome!" Arthur fumed silently, wondering why the discovery of _his_ name hadn't garnered that same reaction.

"Annnd this here is Artie!" the idiot added suddenly, turning toward Arthur and clapping him on the shoulder. Arthur, red faced, (ignoring the bout of shivers that had suddenly coursed through him) shrugged the hand off as if it were a spider, and scowled.

"Get your sodding mitt off me, twit! And I told you _not_ to call me that!" he hissed venomously.

"Yeah, yeah" the buffoon drawled lazily, and turned back toward the brunette, Kiku. Arthur returned furiously to his work, although his mounting rage was making it _very difficult to concentrate!_

"So, you're from Japan?" the git asked. Kiku hesitated warily, before answering.

"Yes… although in my native language, we call it _Nihon-_"

"Wait! Hold the PHONE! Japan has a different name in Japanese?" the git interrupted incredulously. _Bloody ignorant yank_, Arthur scoffed in his head.

"Um, yes, that is…not an uncommon trait with languages…" Kiku attempted to explain politely.

"Ha, that's crazy! What's America in Japanese?" the git asked excitedly.

"Ahh…" Kiku sighed apologetically. "I'm afraid that one is not different"

"Oh." was the disappointed reply. _Haha! Take that, wanker!_ Arthur couldn't help but snort into his conference packet. Immediately he felt two pairs of eyes shift to rest on him. _Shite._

"Okaaay, well, what's the word for England then?" the idiot asked with mock innocence. "I'm sure Artie would like to know-"

_"I bloody told you not to call me tha-!"_

"Um!" Kiku interrupted frantically, glancing nervously between the two. "I believe the word you want, Alfred-san, is _Igirisu_…"

The git leaned back in his chair and scratched the back of his head. "Uhh, _Igree_ what? Wow, Japanese is tough-"

"Only if you've got hamburger for brains" Arthur muttered, shooting the yank his best death glare.

The git was not phased. In fact, he laughed! "Haha! Oh, come on _Iggy_! Don't pout!" he teased, poking Arthur in the arm.

"Idiot! Why can't you just call me by my proper name?" Arthur cried, slapping the hand away, completely exasperated. Honestly, he was _this close _to losing it…

"Now what kind of fun would that be?" the yank returned slyly, and offered up a final, maddening wink.

"**YOU! BLOODY! GIT!"** Arthur roared, and made to strangle the daylights out of the asinine tosser, but was stopped by a pair of soft and strangely well-manicured hands.

"Oh_ ho ho_! What do we have here? A hint of _l'amour_ in the works already? I have to say, I am a bit jealous, _non_?" said a very _French _voice from the seat behind Arthur.

Brilliant. Just what he needed. A bloody_ frog._

Arthur whipped around to find a young man with deep blue eyes and long blond hair tied up in a half ponytail eyeing him with a combination of amusement and… what _was_ that? _Lust?_

Arthur threw the hands off him at once. Bloody French pervert!

"Piss off, Frog!" he snarled. He couldn't believe how downhill this trip had gone in the past quarter hour. "I don't know what definition of _l'amour_ you think you're using, but as I'm clearly about to thrash this wanker into submission, you've got the wrong one!"

"Y-yeah!" the yank git chimed in beside him, looking about as perturbed as Arthur felt. "There is absolutely no _l'amour_ happening here! That's crazy! I mean, that is just freaking crazy!-"

"Who asked you, tosser?" Arthur spat, shutting the git up at last it seemed. However, his little outburst only seemed to increase the amusement in the French delegate (Francis Bonnefoy, Arthur remembered from the program)'s eyes.

"Ahah, oh _mes chers…"_ he simpered, to Arthur's great annoyance. "The French are never wrong about _l'amour_! You will see soon enough, I think!" And with that he settled back into his chair, replaced the pair of violet-colored earbuds he had pulled out, and began to hum something that sounded suspiciously like _Lady Marmalade_…

Arthur was at his wit's end. He scrambled back down into his chair and brought his knees up close to his face, wrapping his arms around his legs as tight as possible. This whole blasted trip, which he had worked so hard for, was already a complete disaster! If Arthur had been any less prideful, he might have burst into tears on the spot. But he did not. He would not give this lot of pillocks _that_ bloody privilege!

After a beat, Arthur noticed that the yank git had remained silent, and with a quick, curious glance, Arthur found the idiot staring back at him confusedly, cheeks tinged a bright pink.

"Well…" the idiot said, after another moment in which Arthur didn't quite manage to turn his gaze away. "…that was awkward, huh?" He flashed Arthur another grin, but this time it was different, more humbled.

"…. Mm" Arthur agreed softly, after some time. "…French prat doesn't know what he's on about" he mumbled to his knees.

"Ha, right!" the git replied, a bit breathlessly Arthur thought. There was yet another weird, strained beat of silence, and then the git started on again:

"Hey, um… Artie? Look, I didn't mean to get you all worked up like that…I was just…" he scratched the back of his head as he mulled over the words; a habit apparently.

"It's fine," Arthur interjected, ignoring the nickname. "I…er…well; I overreacted a bit, didn't I? …And I wasn't _exactly_ cordial to you in the first place…"

"Hey, whatever, dude! As long as we're cool now!" the git, _Alfred,_ replied, blue eyes brightening. "Soooouhhhh….. Friends?" he lifted his eyebrows hopefully, and Arthur couldn't help noticing the childlike genuineness of the gesture.

For one hard moment, Arthur stared at him from the crook between his knees, trying to puzzle out what an agreement of that nature could possibly lead to, but he eventually gave up, and huffed an exaggerated "I suppose…"

Alfred let out a whoop of excitement. "ALRIIIIGHT! This is going to be the best mock world conference EVER!

And, despite himself, Arthur felt on his lips the smallest of amused smiles.

* * *

**A/N: I know Lady Marmalade is an American song but I found the idea of France listening to it too hilarious (and fitting) to resist. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews so far! Seriously, you guys make me :D:D:D!**

**UP NEXT: We arrive at the hotel, where further antics ensue!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Hey, wanna play travel Monopoly with me?"

"We'll be at the hotel in another minute, dolt!"

"Aw, c'mon Artie! I am SO GOOD at this game, you don't even know!"

"Oh, look at that, we've arrived… _git_"

The bus pulled up beside the hotel, which was located in the north central section of the city of Montreal, (the conference meetings themselves would be taking place at the university nearby). Arthur looked out at the bustling sidewalks, and had to admit he was fairly excited to visit the city. This was one place which, in his extended travels, he had not yet had the chance to explore.

But his excitement was no match for Alfred's. The git was practically jumping up and down in his chair – waiting to explode out those double doors like the loon he so clearly was. It might have been endearing, had it not also been so incredibly infuriating.

But, before any of the delegates could move toward the doors, they opened and a tall, slender woman stepped on board, wearing a purple pea coat and some smart, if rather dangerous-looking heels.

"Hello delegates! Welcome to Montreal, and our first Global Youth Mock World Conference!" she greeted enthusiastically. "My name is Talia Powers, and I'm the vice president of Global Youth as well as co-coordinator of this spectacular event!"

_Cor, this woman's more sugary than a sweets factory, _Arthur thought to himself. He turned to share a look of annoyance with Alfred, but the American was staring straight ahead, rapt with attention. Of course,_ now _he was paying attention._ Prat._

"…I just want to congratulate each and every one of you again on being chosen above your peers to represent your country in what should be a priceless educational and life experience! You've all worked very hard to get to this point, and you should be very proud of yourselves! Now-" she clapped her hands together. "I know everyone must be jetlagged, so follow me and we'll get you all checked in and squared away!"

"YES! Bitchin'!" Alfred whooped as he got up from his seat and stretched, pulling on his bomber jacket. Arthur couldn't help noticing how… _fit_ the American's physique appeared to be. Surprising, considering the dietary choices he had thus far presented.

"Hey, Artie" Alfred said, turning toward him. "Maybe we'll be roommates!"

Arthur was quite certain the heat that rose to his cheeks was enough to warm the entire bloody country.

* * *

"_Cor Blimey_, it is fucking COLD!"

"Well, duh Iggy. It is _Canada_!"

"Stop calling me that! Just because you can't get your thick tongue around Japanese doesn't mean I should have to-"

"WOAH Artie, is that your suitcase, man? What are you, Mary Poppins?"

"BLOODY TOSSER!"

"Hahaha- OW! Hey, that hurts!"

* * *

"_Wow…" _

Running into the hotel to avoid any further physical trauma, Alfred suddenly stopped in his tracks. The lobby was just so _fancy_! Alfred had never seen that many chandeliers before in his whole _life_ let alone in the same room! This was really a big deal!

Alfred turned toward Arthur (who had by now huffed up behind him) and flashed him an excited smile, but the Brit only glared in return. Okaaay, so he was still kinda grumpy… (probably that Mary Poppins comment hadn't helped much, but seriously, the thing had FLOWERS on it for Pete's sake!)

At least he hadn't tried to strangle him again (only punched him a little). That was an improvement, right?

They made their way toward a long white table where a large group of delegates had already crowded. Alfred waited in line and stepped up excitedly when it was his turn to check in:

"Name and country, please?" the attendant asked.

"Alfred F. Jones, American hero _extraordinaire_!"

"Um…right. Okay, here's your room key and number, a detailed itinerary, and a map of the area. A complimentary breakfast will be served in the Great Room each morning, and the banquet tonight starts at 7pm sharp."

"Okie doke. thanks a bunch, mate! You guys say mate, right? Oh, no wait, that's Australia. Whoops! Anyway… " He gathered up his pile, saluted to the (now very confused) attendant, and immediately turned around to find Arthur. He was really hoping they had the same room number (but only because that dude was so freaking fun to tease!)

Finally, Alfred spotted him, talking to an Asian delegate with dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Yo Artie! What room do you have?" Alfred asked as he crossed over to him, paying absolutely no mind to the other delegate ("How rude, aru!")

Arthur grumbled something under his breath, (probably involving some more of those weird British insults he seemed to enjoy so much), but eventually sighed, and looked down at his key card:

"748"

"Dang, I'm 704…" Alfred said, trying not to let his disappointment be too obvious. "Well, we can ride the elevator up together anyway!"

"Oh, how _fortunate_." Arthur replied, and yeah, it was sarcastic, but there was a little smirk on the Brit's lips which Alfred thought looked more amused than annoyed. Progress, progress! At this rate, they'd be best friends in no time! Not that Alfred was desperate for friends or anything. He was awesome at making friends, _thank you very much! _

It was just that, well, Arthur was weird. He hadn't warmed to Alfred right away like most people did. Getting Arthur to like him was like a challenge. And heroes loved challenges.

"C'mon, let's go!" Alfred shouted, and, after another exaggerated sigh, the grumpy Brit complied.

* * *

Why Arthur was allowing himself to be dragged around by the annoying American, he couldn't begin to explain. It certainly wasn't because he was warming up to the relentless git, and it even-more-certainly wasn't because he found Alfred to be _attractive_ in any way. Admittedly, the boy was rather easy on the eyes, but Arthur considered such physical attractions to be beneath him, and _why the bloody hell was he even thinking about this? _He came here to participate in a prestigious academic event, and _that. was. it._

He pushed the thought away and followed Alfred into the lift.

Since most of the others were still mingling in the lobby, they were joined by only one other delegate for the ride up; a tall and rather intimidating bloke with short blond hair and glasses. After pressing the button for the sixth floor, the tall delegate proceeded to step right in between Arthur and Alfred (not that Arthur cared about _that_ – the farther away from the twit the better!) without saying even one word.

"Hey, man! What's up? I'm Alfred from the States United!" Alfred greeted at once, holding out his hand. Arthur rolled his eyes. _Here we bloody go._

"…I'm guessing you're from some kinda European country, like Denmark or something… Is that right, Denmark?" the git asked, still waiting for his hand to be shaken, but the delegate only narrowed his eyes frostily, saying nothing at all in return.

"Haha… right. Not Denmark then…" Alfred amended carefully. He leaned back to look at Arthur and raised his eyebrows questioningly, cocking his thumb in the direction of their eerily silent companion. Arthur shrugged in return, stomaching the snicker of laughter that threatened to escape his control. Honestly, where were his manners?

One highly uncomfortable lift ride later, (Alfred had continued his incessant prodding, naming off every country he could think of, until finally "Sweden" received an affirmative grunt.) they reached the sixth floor.

The strange Swedish delegate made to leave, but turned around abruptly and looked at them both in that intense fashion of his. Arthur panicked, quite sure that he was going to get murdered by a mad Swede all because of some bloody American's shenanigans, but then, the delegate began to speak:

" 'T wz n'ce t' m't yeh. G't t' lek f'r m' w'fe n'w" The bloke spoke slowly and deliberately, but the words were still nigh-indecipherable. _Did he say something about looking for his wife? _

With that the delegate turned and left. Alfred and Arthur shared a look, just barely managing to wait for the doors to close before bursting into peals of laughter.

When doors opened again to the seventh floor Arthur all but tumbled out of the lift, holding his stomach in a fit of silenced giggles. Alfred didn't bother holding back; he leaned up against the wall and continued to laugh out loud. Arthur hated to admit it, but it was a rather nice sound…

"Man, that guy was freaking scary!" Alfred exclaimed at last.

"I'm still surprised he didn't off us both, the way you were pestering him!"

"Well," Alfred said, cocking his head playfully. "Not _all _people have violent anger issues, Artie" he teased.

"Oh?" Arthur shot back, his own temper flaring up._ "_Just what _exactly _are you implying, wanker_?"_ He took a warning step toward the git, for emphasis.

"Just what exactly do you think I'm implying, _Iggy_?" Alfred replied breezily, taking his own step, and suddenly, they were _too close_. Too close for near-strangers anyway. Arthur blushed and retracted his step, and, though it took the git another second to register the situation, Alfred did the same. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence.

"Er… I'm… I'll just be off to my room then..." Arthur finally managed to say. Christ, why the hell was he blushing so hard?

"Yeah, uh… me too" was the git's rather delayed response.

"I'll… see you 'round I suppose"

"Oh… yeah! Definitely!"

After another tension-laden moment, they both turned and walked toward their rooms.

* * *

**A/N: **So, just as a forewarning, there are going to be two moderately prominent OCs in this fic. Since the most of the APH crew has already been cast as delagates, and since someone needs to actually _run_ the conference, it was really kind of unavoidable. (You'll see why when the adventure side of the story picks up, I hope!)

**Also: **" 'T wz n'ce t' m't yeh. G't t' lek f'r m' w'fe n'w" = "It was nice to meet you. Got to look for my wife now". I couldn't think of a more obvious way to write it and still keep it sounding like true Berwaldspeak.

Thank you so much for reading!

**UP NEXT: **Finally, we get to meet roommates!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Ugh. _That was one thing Alfred was not enjoying about the conference thus far. What was it about that cranky Brit that made him get so awkward like that? Alfred was never awkward!

Brushing the moment off (getting back in the 'hero zone' as he liked to think of it), Alfred swiped his key across the lock of room 704 and opened the door.

" ~Ve! Look, Lovino! Our other roommate is here!"

He was greeted at the door by a shortish guy with auburn hair and this weird curl thing which seemed to defy gravity. Alfred knew all about that (he had his own unusual 'hair issues'), and so he smiled back and opened his mouth, fully prepared to give his awesome roommate introductory speech. But he was quickly silenced when he realized that the little Italian (that was an Italian accent, right?) dude in front of him was missing something which Alfred considered pretty crucial to most normal first encounters:

_Pants._

"Uhhh…" Fortunately, Alfred was saved from having to come up with something to say, as another voice called from somewhere behind the door:

"God dammit Feli, put some fucking pants on! That guy might be a pervert!"

Almost immediately, a second dude (also sporting one of those crazy curls) appeared by the first one's side. This one was fully clothed (thankfully!) but seemed a bit less enthusiastic about Alfred's presence.

"Quit ogling my brother you fucking pervert!"

"Hahaha! Calm down, man!" Alfred laughed to cover his blush. "You don't have to worry about that! I don't swing that way" _Though, that was actually kind of a lie wasn't it?_

Well, whatever. That was a can of worms Alfred didn't feel like getting into right at this moment. He had a much more important task at hand: Make as many friends as possible, starting with these two weird Italian dudes.

"Sorry about Lovi," began Italy bro #1 as Alfred followed him into the room, lugging his jam-packed duffle behind him, "traveling makes him grumpy." The dude began to dig through his own suitcase, throwing clothes all over the room. Italy bro #2 responded to his brother's allegation by stalking off to one of the beds and curling up in what Alfred considered to be the sulkiest way possible.

"Yeah, I can see that" Alfred replied, flopping down on the other bed. "So, wait… you guys are brothers? How is that even possible? Isn't only one candidate allowed per country?" he asked, lifting his head up.

"Ooo yeah…" replied Bro #1 as he struggled to put on the pair of pants he'd retrieved. "… ~Ve, well, see, my brother and I kept getting the same exact marks on all the tests they gave us, they tried all different tests but every time, Lovi and I got the same score! They were so convinced we were cheating but we weren't at all! WHAHH!-" He tripped over the pants and crashed to the floor, but immediately righted himself and kept going:

"-But yeah so they kept testing and testing and eventually they got tired and just decided to send both of us so I guess we got real lucky! Isn't that right, Lovi?" he asked, turning to Bro #2, but the second brother had apparently blocked out the conversation by pulling a pillow around his head.

"Anyway…" Bro #1 continued, finally succeeding in putting on his pants well enough to button them up. "It's not that weird, is it? You're here with your brother after all"

"Uh… come again?" Alfred asked, sitting back up in surprise. _What in the holy heck was this guy talking about?_ Alfred didn't have a brother, though he _had_ always wanted one…

"Oh, come on!" Bro #2 shouted suddenly from his spot on the bed, still holding the pillow around his head even as he raised it to yell. "You can't tell me that other guy isn't related to you! You look _exactly alike_ for fuck's sake!"

Well now Alfred was really confused. "Uhh, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you guys are talking about" he replied, biting his lip a bit. He was beginning to consider heavily the idea of switching to another room, when a third (barely audible) voice sounded from the doorway behind him:

"H-hey guys"

Alfred turned reflexively and gaped at the sight before him. For a moment he thought he might be looking into some kind of crazy mirror: one that changed his clothes and eyes and hair and also showed him standing up eating strange Canadian candy bars. He slapped himself a bit, just to make sure he wasn't going completely nuts.

The weird reflection thing looked just as shocked as he was (indeed, it had frozen mid-chew, staring with those wrong-colored eyes). Then, the reflection thing furrowed its eyebrows and turned sharply toward the Italy Bros.

"Wh-what is this, eh? Some kind of joke?" the reflection asked angrily, a little bit louder than before. Alfred, meanwhile, was slowly coming to the realization that he wasn't going crazy; that there really was a strange Canadian kid standing right in front of him who could just about pass as his double.

"Haha. No joke. Pretty weird though…" he laughed weakly, trying to gain back his footing. The Canadian kid turned back to him, the anger in his face quickly giving way to confused fascination.

"You… you look just like me…" he practically whispered; the awe on his face apparent. "How is that possible?" he asked, as though Alfred had any clue at all.

"I dunno, dude" Alfred shrugged. "Could we be distant cousins or something? What's your last name?"

"Um, Williams" the kid replied timidly.

"Hmm… Don't think I'm related to any Williams'…" Alfred replied. Then an idea struck him.

"Hey! Maybe we're like, twins separated at birth!" he shouted, jumping up from the bed and grabbing the kid by the shoulders in his excitement. "I always thought my parents were hiding something from me! Ahahaha! YES!-" he shouted as he shook the kid back and forth. "It makes so much _sense_!"

It _did_ make so much sense, at least to Alfred. His new found brother still looked a bit skeptical (and also kind of afraid).

"Um…w-well I am adopted… b-but I don't think…"

"See? _See?_ That clinches it!" Alfred interrupted. "You're my long-lost brother, man!" He was so excited, he was practically tearing up. Who cared if his parents were horrible, horrible liars? That could be dealt with at another time.

Unable to contain his emotions, Alfred pulled the kid into what he hoped was the best brotherly hug ever.

The kid struggled against the hug at first: "Um…I think there might be another solu-" he protested, but then seemed to give up.

"…ahh…n-never mind…" he resorted to patting Alfred on the back, which Alfred was perfectly okay with.

After all, he had a freaking _brother_.

* * *

Arthur had to take a few moments to gather himself before opening the door to his assigned room. That infuriating American had really gotten to him! Arthur couldn't pin down just exactly what allowed the git-in-question to get on his nerves so terrifically, but he'd had just about enough of it. Maybe he'd get lucky and miss running into him for the rest of the conference…

_Fat chance_, Arthur thought to himself bitterly. Hopefully, his roommates would be at least a bit more tolerable. Steeling himself, Arthur breathed, swiped the card, and turned the handle of room 748:

"_Oh ho_, look who it is! _Mon ami d'Angleterre!_"

_You've got to be bloody joking._

But, no it was no joke. Arthur stood frozen in silent outrage as the French prat from before sauntered up to him and draped a casual arm around his shoulders.

"It appears as if we are, how you say, roommates? A most fortunate coincidence, _non_?"

_Fortunate?_ That was the last bloody word to come to Arthur's mind! In fact, he found himself suppressing a great and sudden urge to run from the room screaming. Instead, he settled for smacking away the offending limb and glaring defiantly.

"We won't be roommates for long, _I assure you_" Arthur all but hissed. "I'm going straight down to registration and requesting an immediate room swap-"

"Haha! Good luck with that, _amigo_!" a second voice called from the bathroom. The door was cracked open and a cloud of steam emerged, as well as the head of a wet-haired, darker-skinned chap. Arthur immediately trained his glare on this second bloke, who in turn recoiled a bit:

"No offense, my friend_…_" the Spanish git tried again, (to his own imminent peril, as far as Arthur was concerned) "…but what reason do you have? You don't like French people? They'll look at you like you're _loco_ or something…" Infuriatingly enough, the tosser had a point. Until Arthur could supply a valid reason for the switch, it seemed he was right stuck.

Arthur grumbled incoherently and, tracing a wide perimeter around the Frenchmen, trudged into the cursed room. He sighted a dresser in the corner and, fuming, began to unpack his things carefully into its drawers. He couldn't believe his incredible ill luck. First, that whiny American, and now getting involuntarily lodged with a dodgy Frenchman and a wise-arsed Spaniard. Arthur hated the cliché, but really, he couldn't see how things could get any worse.

"Speaking of roommates-" began the Frog, eyeing interestedly Arthur's busywork, "-I wonder where our last roommate could be?" Arthur really couldn't be bothered to care about what any third roommate would be like, (he was still rather preoccupied with brooding about the first two). But, it seemed that whatever questions he might have had would be answered shortly anyway, because the room's door clicked open once more:

"_Ahem"_

That was probably the most manly clearing-of-one's-throat Arthur had ever heard. Curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to face what was surely his third and final roommate:

At once Arthur realized that as manly as the bloke's voice had sounded, it was no match for the accompanying body. The chap was muscular enough to be commanding an army, and he was dressed for it too: short blond hair slicked back, tight army-style shirt, camouflage pants and… _combat boots? Really?_ Arthur was almost surprised to see that the fellow was _not_ in fact carrying a weapon of any sort.

"Good day," the chap began in a booming, thickly German-accented tone. "My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt, and I am going to be your roommate for the duration of this conference. There are a few things I'd like to get straightened out right away; some basic rules and practices which I believe will be highly beneficial to our brief stay together-" He took from his pocket a sheet of neatly-folded white paper. Arthur and the others stared, shocked into baffled silence:

"-First: there should be no loud music or other noises during normal sleeping hours. I think we can all agree that a good night's sleep will be of vital importance during the next few days. Second: All parties are to keep their respective living spaces as neat and orderly as possible. Neat rooms allow for much better productivity. Third: bathroom times are to be scheduled and strictly adhered to, excepting circumstances of emergency. Fourth:-"

THUD! The German delegate was cut off abruptly by a large crash coming from the hallway. Strangely enough, the effect of the noise on the German bloke was rather more potent than to be expected: the color drained from his face as he peered cautiously out into the hallway, his former business-like expression replaced instead with one of anxious dread. Then, from out in the hallway, another voice sounded:

"AH-HAH! I knew I'd find you little _bruder_! Thought you could ditch the awesome me, huh? You should know better by now!"

The German bloke, Ludwig, had just enough time to throw an apologetic glance back over his shoulder before the door slammed open once more. A thinish chap with white hair and red eyes stood in the doorway, appraising them all with a smug, self-satisfied sneer.

"Greetings, Global Dorks! Get ready to have your world rocked by the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

Arthur scanned the room for his roommates' reactions. The frog and the Spaniard were both eyeing the albino prat with keen interest. Was he the only one who was put off by the git's presence then?_ Well fine, then_. He'd handle this bloody nonsense himself.

"Clear off you barmy git! You've got the wrong room!" Arthur shouted, forcing as much steel into his voice as possible.

But the prat only laughed and turned to his companion "Oh Lud, you haven't explained it to them yet?"

"Explain what?" asked the Spaniard, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

With what appeared to be excruciating reluctance, Ludwig turned to face them once more. He seemed incapable of looking any of them in the eye.

"This is my big brother, Gilbert. When he found out I was traveling to Canada to participate in this event he decided to… _come along_" This last part was muttered though a tightly clenched jaw.

"Yeah, it was so easy too!" the albino prat interjected. "…I mean I did have to buy a plane ticket and everything, but after that all I had to do was sneak into the bus's baggage compartment, and from then on it was a total cinch! No one's even stopped to check if I have a name tag; they just hear my accent and keep right on going!" he walked over to one of the beds and sprawled out on it. "_Mein Gott_ I love Canada!"

While Francis and the Spaniard both continued to look impressed with the wanker's ridiculous "achievements", Arthur was having none of it.

"Don't get comfortable, git-" he hissed. "-because as soon as I tell the registration what's up, you'll be chucked out of here so fast your bloody albino head'll spin!" He made his way toward the door, but was stopped by the wretched frog.

"Oh, come now _mon cher_. Have a heart!"

"Si!" the Spaniard chimed in, "You aren't gonna just snitch on him, are you? That would be _muey_ sucky-"

"Like hell I'm not!" Arthur interrupted indignantly. Christ, was he the only one with any sense at all in this sodding place? He pushed the French prat out of the way and made a beeline for the door. Just as he was turning the doorknob, he was stopped again, by the last person in that room he expected to interfere:

_"Please"_

The voice was no longer booming or manly, instead it was quiet and filled with strained desperation. With great reluctance, hand still poised above the knob, Arthur grudgingly turned toward the younger German brother:

"Please-" Ludwig continued, his face getting steadily redder until Arthur wondered if he might actually explode. "-If you turn in my _bruder_ they'll kick me out too. I'll be shamed, a disgrace to my entire country..." he cut himself off and looked down, the struggle to not break down completely taking hold of him till his muscular body practically quaked with the stress of it all. Arthur was stunned into silence. A wave of empathy he had not known he was capable of rolled over him and he sagged, breathing out a sigh of defeat.

"_Fine._" he said through gritted teeth, "I won't tell." "But don't think you'll be getting any bed space, twat!" he added, rounding on the infuriating albino. "It's the bloody floor for you!"

The wanker sat up laughed inanely, red eyes twinkling. "Aye aye, _Cap'n_!" he replied, saluting mischieveously, "But I don't think you have to worry. I don't plan on sleeping in _this_ room much at all, if you catch my drift!"

Arthur didn't know whether to cringe in revulsion or break out into hysterics. He opted instead to storm out of the room altogether in pursuit of the closest, cheapest bottle of Canadian rum he could get his hands on.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, Arthur, starting a bit early, aren't we? Tsk, tsk (XD). I hope you all find my explanations for the brothers' presences to be acceptable. It was a fun little challenge, let me tell you!

By the way, Mattie was eating a Coffee Crisp bar, which, according to Amazon, is " a combination of coffee cream, cookie wafers and milk chocolate coating." I've personally never had one but they sound delicious!

Reviews are always, always appreciated. Even the smallest ones make me so ridiculously happy!

**UP NEXT:** the opening banquet, where a speech occurs, and a few sparks fly. ;)


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